


Too much or too little is a matter of perspective

by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Derek Leaves Beacon Hills, M/M, Other tags to be added, Peter's on the edges of the pack, Rating subject to change, Stiles is 17, Title will hopefully change, stetersecretsanta2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/pseuds/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving
Summary: The whole thing starts with a text from Derek
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 7
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VanessaWolfie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanessaWolfie/gifts).



> First of all: Apologies for a) being late and b) posting an incomplete gift (I can't change the former but I'll rectify the in the next couple of days)
> 
> This is made for the Stetersecretsanta on tumblr as a gift for VanessaWolfie

Under normal circumstances Stiles would’ve noticed sooner. However, they weren’t with Stiles recovering from being possessed by a thousand year old demonic entity and as such it was probably understandable if he wasn’t as sharp as he’d usually be.

Still, it took a text from Derek – who’d left Beacon Hills as soon as Stiles was the sole inhabitant of his body once more – asking him to check in on Peter, to finally see what had been right in front of him for months.

~x~

The pack’s currently gathered at Derek’s loft; since it’s the only place big enough for all of them where they can discuss everything supernatural without risking the uninitiated to overhear them he’d left them a key when he’d left for Argentina to spend time with Cora and grieve the loss of his pack without having to constantly fight for his life. 

A while back the ‘wolves had noticed a strange, highly unpleasant smell of dirt and rotten meat while running in the preserve and they’d tried to track the source of it ever since. Today they’d finally succeeded, had surprised something humanoid about to take a bite out of a poor, unsuspecting jogger; the thing had escaped and the ‘wolves had brought the jogger to the hospital leaving them in the capable hands of the medical staff before calling in a meeting.

Knowing what the owner of the smell looked like made it infinitely easier to look for in the copy of the Argent bestiary they’d gotten their hands on a lifetime ago, as well as some of the other books on supernatural creatures Deaton had deigned to lend them as well as some that Peter had gotten. Stiles was the only one who had even the faintest idea how much they were worth and how difficult most of them had been to get and so he couldn’t help but wince whenever they were tossed carelessly down on the table or jammed back on already filled shelves. 

Of course, knowing _what_ to look for wasn’t the same as knowing _where_ to begin so it still took them a few hours to find out it had been a wendigo – a creature whose strength and speed could probably compare to a werewolf’s, whose claws were every bit as dangerous and had the added advantage of only being vulnerable to fire.   
Stiles wasn’t quite sure how Peter ended up as bait for the thing.

-

Turns out a wendigo’s an even bigger pain to fight than any of their research had led them to believe; the thing easily holding its own against three ‘wolves, its wounds knitting together faster than they could inflict them unlike the gaping ones opening on the ‘wolves with each connection swipe of the wendigo’s claws. 

Armed with a flare gun Stiles tries to get a clean shot, but the creature is too fast and the ‘wolves too close for him to chance it. To his left Lydia stands with a Molotov cocktail in her raised hand waiting for an opportunity to throw it at the creature.

In the end everything happens too fast for Stiles to react. The wendigo manages to jam its claws into Isaac’s stomach and catch Peter with its other arm; bleeding profusely and with exhaustion written in every line of his body he offers no resistance as he’s dragged further into the woods. Isaac’s shaken from its claws, stumbling back and would’ve fallen to the ground if Scott hadn’t caught him, Lydia’s arm coming down and the Molotov sailing through the air, hitting the wendigo in the chest right next to Peter’s head, instantly catching fire.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> picks up right where we left off

Stiles doesn’t _decide_ to move. It’s just that one moment he’s standing out of the wendigo’s reach trying to get a clear shot and the next he’s right in front of it playing tug of war with a creature many times stronger than him, both of them with a firm grip on Peter who’s staring at the flames with empty eyes.   
Hurt by the fire the wendigo loosens its grip enough that Stiles can pull Peter an inch to the side and then aim his flare gun right at the creature’s chest and pull the trigger. The effect is instantaneous though Stiles doesn’t notice beyond being able to finally pull Peter from its grasp and away from the heat of its burning body.   
He’s vaguely aware of the noises indicating that the pack’s cleaning up the evidence, that a few of them leave through the trees presumably to track its lair to see if they can find any other victims, alive or dead, as their research had revealed wendigos like to store live food, but he doesn’t look up to see who’re still there or get up to offer his help, instead his focus is entirely on Peter.

It’s not that Peter’s hurt per se.   
The hair on one side is a little singed and there are a few black spots on his shirt that might not match the fabric perfectly, but most people probably wouldn’t get close enough to even notice them. But his face is ashen and covered in sweat while his skin feels cold to the touch, something that is especially concerning when werewolves usually run way hotter than humans. Peter’s chest is heaving and this close Stiles has no trouble hearing the wheezing following each shaky breath as the ‘wolf hovers precariously on the edge of a panic attack.

Around him the noises die down, the pack done with clean up and then a few ‘see ya’s’ are thrown his way, soon followed by the distant sound of roaring engines as they drive home. Stiles can’t go anywhere until Peter’s able to move on his own – he might’ve gotten stronger and in better shape by running with ‘wolves, but there’s no way he’ll be able to carry a two hundred plus pounds grown man to his jeep, even if it’s not terribly far away – so he kneels down next to him, gently takes Peter’s hand and places it on his chest, in a low voice telling him to follow Stiles’ breathing.   
It’s easier than Stiles expected to coax him out of it, though Peter keeps a borderline painful grip on his hand while they sit on the forest floor trying to catch their breaths. Above them birds are chirping their goodnights to each other, the wind rustles through the leaves and slowly Peter’s breath return to a normal, inaudible level. They remain seated for another few minutes, the cold creeping in at Stiles knees and shins and he wonders if staying much longer is going to cause him to either catch a cold or the flu; despite his discomfort he doesn’t move until the grip on his hand loosens minutely and he can no longer see if Peter’s shaking.   
Haltingly they make their way back to the jeep, Peter getting into the passenger seat and Stiles slipping in behind the wheel, cranking up the heat and driving towards Peter’s apartment figuring the man would prefer the comfort of his own home right now.

It doesn’t take long for Stiles to pull in at Peter’s apartment building and park in his usual spot. Well, his _preferred_ spot at least, considering the lot’s used by all the tenants and their guests which means that sometimes this one’s taken; and really, if he hadn’t been preoccupied with a too quiet, non-smirking Peter, he probably should’ve given some thought to the fact that he has a _preferred parking spot_ at a place he doesn’t live. Instead he gets out of and walks around the jeep to open the passenger door and hovers anxiously - while trying to seem like he isn’t doing just that – while Peter slowly climbs out the car and carefully starts walking towards the building.   
He stops mid-step, turns his head slightly to the side like he’s trying to look over his shoulder but something keeps him from moving that much. Stiles can see his mouth opening and his lips stretch around a soundless plea. Stiles shuts the door but doesn’t waste time locking the jeep - knows no one would steal it any way as it’s just a pothole away from falling completely apart and its only worth is the sentimental value he’s placed upon it – walks up to Peter and wraps his arm around him to let the man lean on him as they walk inside the building and to the elevator, doesn’t move for the few seconds it takes to get to the fifth floor or while walking to the end of the hall way. Peter makes no move to get out his keys and open the door, luckily Stiles has had an extra since Peter moved here, hanging from the same keychain as the key to his dad’s house.

If asked, Stiles would’ve guessed Peter’s place was decorated with nothing but steel and chrome; something modern and expensive but cold and uncomfortable to spend time in. He’d been surprised the first time he’d set foot inside the place; the walls were painted in neutral colors but where filled book cases didn’t take up the space they were decorated with pictures and colorful posters of landscapes and animals – mostly wolves, but also a few large cats like panthers and lions. The furniture was comfortable if sparse, the worn leather couch littered with cushions and blankets and Stiles knew Peter had made the curtains hanging from the windows himself.

He unlocks the door and gently drags Peter across the threshold. He briefly wonders if he should get him something to drink but a quick glance and he can see the man’s nearly asleep so instead he maneuvers him towards the bedroom, gets him to lie down on the bed and takes off his shoes and sock, takes off his belt and unbuttons his pants and then making sure he’s covered entirely by the duvet. Seeing Peter’s fast asleep Stiles gets a glass of water he leaves on the nightstand, sends his dad a text to let him know where he is, makes a pot of coffee and camps out on the couch either for the rest of the night or until Peter wakes up and tells him to leave.


End file.
